


It Came Upon a Christmas Eve

by DoubleScript



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Drunk Werewolves, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleScript/pseuds/DoubleScript
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk confessions, comfy beds, and coffee for the ensuing hangover.<br/>Gift for Buzzcut-Season-Hurricane x</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Came Upon a Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

> I tried really hard to write fluff, I really did.

Never try to out drink a werewolf – Stiles found out the hard way. This year's pack Christmas party was not only a celebration of making it to another holiday season, but Lydia had finally perfected her Southern Blue Monkshood vodka. It was the first year the non-shifting members of the pack could get drunk and sing horrible renditions of Christmas carols in Derek's apartment, and nobody was more excited than Stiles.

On December 24th, the morning after their first drunken Christmas party, Stiles woke up to his phone buzzing obnoxiously on the end table. Groaning, he pulled the comforter over his head and buried his face further into the plush pillows beneath him....and then he panicked. This was not his bed, this was most certainly the bed that belonged to one Derek Hale, and who would have thought Mr. Tall, Dark, and Leather would have a white down comforter? And that's when he remembered...  
 _Scott drunk was like a sober Stiles – all flailing limbs and wide smiles. So, when Stiles was walking behind him it surprised nobody that Scott sent him falling on his ass, sticky green drink all down his front.  
“Oh my god! Stiles! I'm so sorry!” Scott whined with big puppy dog eyes, as if he had just committed a cardinal sin. Isaac surprised them all with a booming laugh that resonated in their bones. The way he laughed reminded him of family, of safety – everything that Issac had never known. A goofy smirk appeared on Stiles face, and it may have been the alcohol, but this felt like the true meaning of Christmas. The pack, each of them broken in ways that will never quite heal, had found each other and made a damn good family out of the mess. Stiles was still lost in thought when strong arms lifted him up off the floor._

_“Come on, let's get you changed. You're dripping on my carpet,” Derek grumbled, but there was a flash of humor behind his eyes._

_“You want me to drip somewhere else? I always knew you couldn't resist my pale, lanky figure.”_   
_“STILES!” Scott and Derek shouted in unison, the latter in shock, Scott in warning. Stiles was never good at controlling his mouth, but even he had enough control to not say anything perverse to Derek. He's not even sure what he meant by that, but it just slipped out._   
_“Oh come on, I'm kidding! Obviously Derek wouldn't be into that, what with super werewolf smell and all!” When all the wolves in the room turned red, including Derek, Stiles choked._

_“That....that is just too much information. Oh my god. I need a drink, like, ten minutes ago.”_

_A low growl reverberated behind him and suddenly he was being pulled toward the back of the apartment, where Derek's bedroom was.  
“Just sit down and keep your mouth shut,” he was told as Derek forcefully sat him on the bed._

_“Yo, Derek, I'm sorry man. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Besides, they all know I'm kidding!” At some point Stiles went from sitting to laying awkwardly across the foot of Derek's bed, feet still planted on the floor._   
_There was a pained expression on Derek's face, like Stiles had no idea how wrong he was. Derek didn't say anything, just turned to root through his dresser for a shirt that would fit Stiles._   
_He sat up and stumbled over to where Derek stood, “Hey, chill out, man. They're still werewolves, drunk or not.”_   
_“Exactly!” Derek turned around and crowded into Stiles space, “You can't lie to a room full of werewolves, Stiles. They know when you're telling the truth.”_   
_It dawned on Stiles what Derek was trying to say, and if a flush crept its way up his neck, he blamed it on the alcohol, “Alright, so they know you have a scent kink. Big deal! I know for a fact that Scott likes it when–” he was cut off when Derek shoved a balled up shirt into his chest._   
_“Just get changed. Now.” And with that he walked out._   
_Stiles could hear them talking in the living room, could hear Scott apologizing to Derek. Why the hell was it such a big deal? Everybody has a kink or two!_   
_“Derek, man, we've known for a long time. It's nothing to be ashamed of!” Stiles didn't even want to think about how Scott's known “for a long time”._   
_“It's obvious he feels the same way. I don't understand why you're making it harder than it has to be.” That was Lydia's angelic voice filtering through the wall, but for once it made no sense._   
_“Just to clarify, we are talking about Derek's -”_

_“Isaac! Enough!” Derek's voice was clipped and he slurred a little, implying he was doing more shots than Stiles would find acceptable in a five minute period. Stiles tried to hear the rest of what was being said, but they were all talking so quiet. He tried to rush toward the door, but his foot caught the corner of the comforter and down he tumbled, bringing the heavy blanket with him. When Derek crashed through the door he could barely conceal the laughter that threatened to spill out._   
_“Come on, you're drunk,” he reasoned as he picked Stiles up off the floor and laid him in his bed. When Derek tried to tuck his blanket around him, Stiles reached up and wrapped his arms around Derek's neck._   
_“Stay. Just for a minute,” he pleaded. Stiles had figured Derek would turn him down, would storm out and cause a scene. He hadn't anticipated the sigh of resignation before he climbed in next to Stiles._

_“You heard all of that?” Derek asked, voice low and steady, like he knew the answer._

_Stiles rolled on his side and buried his face in the crook of Derek's neck. He would never have the guts to do this sober, so he was taking full advantage of his liquid courage._

_“You smell good, like the forest,” he whispered, breath hot on Derek's skin._

_“Stiles...” Derek groaned, caught somewhere between disapproval and want, but before he could finish that thought, before Stiles heart split from Derek's rejection, he fell asleep._

His head was throbbing and his body felt like he had tumbled down at least one flight of stairs the night before, but the most uncomfortable part of his hangover was the embarrassment. Not only had Stiles made a pass at Derek, but the entire pack was there to witness it!

He had three text messages from Scott and his stomach dropped before he even opened them.

**Hey u alright?**

**Have u spoke to Derek?**

_**Media Downloading** _

Great, this is not going to be one of those things they can play off as Stiles just being drunk. He's going to have to face this, but maybe not today. The window in Derek's bedroom led to the fire escape, and if he was very careful he could make it to his Jeep before shit hit the fan.  
Stiles had one foot out the window when he heard the bedroom door open. He froze, trying to come up with some sort of half lie to explain straddling Derek's windowsill.

“I thought using the window was my thing?” He sounded genuinely amused, and it sent a rush of warmth through Stiles' chest.  
Derek was, by far, the most beautiful creature Stiles had ever laid eyes on. The way he leaned against the door frame, hands wrapped snugly around his coffee, the way his black tank stretched across his torso and his green Christmas pajamas hung low on his hips, the way his eyebrow lifted, but for once in amusement, it all was too much for Stiles to bear.

“Um..yeah..I was just...I wasn't sure if you were awake...Um...” For the first time in his life Stiles was at a loss for words. He climbed down from the windowsill and shuffled passed Derek, waving half halfheartedly on his way out.  
“Thanks...ya know...for everything. I'll see you later!” And with that, Stiles slammed the door behind him.

 

Curse the walk back to his Jeep, curse the cold weather, and curse the fact that he left his jacket somewhere in Derek's apartment. Just as Stiles was coming up to his Jeep, a familiar car pulled up next to him.  
“Get in. We're getting coffee,” Derek's tone left no room for argument, and Stiles could just see the blue sleeve of his jacket in the backseat. He also could see that Derek hadn't changed, only thrown on his leather jacket, and there was no way he was passing up the opportunity to see Derek Hale in public with green fleece Christmas bottoms on.

The drive to Dunkin Donuts was quiet, and when Derek pulled into the drive-thru Stiles couldn't help but pout.

“You didn't really think I'd go out in public like this, did you?” Derek scoffed, but there was no heat in it.

“Well, a man can only hope!” He tried to sound casual, but the knots in his stomach were making his voice just a little shaky. Derek noticed, he was sure of it, but bless the man for not saying anything.

They parked facing the woods and sat in silence for a minute, letting the smell of dark roast fill the space. Derek cleared his throat first.

“So, last night. You can...I understand if it makes you uncomfortable. I won't be offended if you need some time away.” Derek spoke to his coffee cup, as if it held all the answers in it's steam.

Stiles laughed, but there was a distinct lack of humor in the sound, “Dude, I humiliated you in front of the pack, and then I hit on you. Gotta be honest man, I'm not sure why you're acting like you did anything.”  
Derek's head snapped to look at Stiles, eyebrows furrowed, “I thought you said you heard everything last night?”

The memory of nuzzling into Derek's neck sent a rush of warmth up Stiles neck, “Actually...I don't think I ever answered you...”

Confusion spilled off the pair like sweat, neither of them seeing the writing on the wall. Derek doesn't do feelings, and the pained expression on his face was enough for Stiles to take the lead.

“What didn't I hear, Derek?” He tried not to get his hopes up, but his heart betrayed him.

“Why did you ask me to stay?” If Stiles hadn't been looking at him, he might not have known Derek had answered, and that's what it was, an answer.

Heartbeat frantic, Stiles brought his lips to mere centimeters of Derek's. “Can I?” He asked, breath hot on the other man's lips. There was no response, only the light press of Derek's lips to his.

There was no sense of urgency, just careful movements, the whole experience sweeter than anything Stiles had imagined. When he nipped at Derek's bottom lip a low growl rocked through him.

“Is there a wolf in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?” Stiles asked with a dopey grin, pulling back just far enough to see Derek's eyes roll.

“Are you a Frito? Because you're really corny.”

“Oh.My.God. Did you really? Did you just say that?” The smile on Stiles face was huge, and Derek would never admit it, but he'd tell a hundred lame jokes just to see his face light up.

Stiles phone chose that moment to ding, letting him know the picture Scott has sent him finally downloaded. It was from last night, Stiles nuzzled in the crook of Derek's neck, while Derek curled protectively around Stiles. The caption read, “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals!”

Merry Christmas, indeed.

 


End file.
